Chapter Text
Oliver pulls a jumper over his head.
“Shit, man, this thing’s full of holes.”
Percy looks over at the jumper Oliver has on. It fits him well, except for the giant holes. He stifles a laugh.
“How’d you manage that?”
Oliver crinkles his nose, the way he does when he’s thinking hard about something. Percy thinks it’s kinda cute, in a silly way. “I don’t take very good care of my clothes. Probably got ‘em from Quidditch.”
Percy raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realise Quidditch was that… aggressive.”
“It’s not,” Oliver sighs, pulling the jumper back off his head. The hem of his shirt rides up a little and Percy sees a flash of tanned skin. He clears his throat quickly and looks away. “I’m just not very careful.” He folds the jumper and puts it back in his trunk. “Guess that’s a bust. Lemme see if I have a clean shirt in here…”
“You can borrow one of my jumpers,” Percy says, feigning nonchalance. He tries to find his place on the page again. “They’re all clean and hole-less.” He gestures to his trunk with his foot.
“Thanks, mate,” Oliver says, opening Percy’s trunk. He pulls out the top jumper and Percy feels his face get hot when he sees which jumper he’s chosen.
Percy sits up and reaches for it. “Oh, well you don’t have to wear that one. I’m sure there’s another clean jumper in there if you just-”
“No no no, I want to wear this one,” Oliver says, pulling the jumper just out of reach of Percy’s hand. He pulls the scarlet abomination over his head.
“Well, what do you think?” he asks, “Do I look like a Weasly?”
The jumper actually looks really good on him, Percy thinks. He’s immediately embarrassed to have even thought it. The jumper is a bit small, but it shows off his muscles nicely. He looks lean and athletic -- not that he ever doesn’t -- and Percy feels smug that his jumper makes Oliver look that good. And extremely embarrassed (not for the first time) of the bright yellow ‘P’ Molly insisted on knitting into the front.
“Yeah,” he says, cocking his head to the side, “It actually looks better on you than it does on me. Maybe I should get mum to knit you one next year." Percy thinks he could bring it up in his next letter home, there was enough time before Christmas, and Molly likes to get an early start on gifts.
Oliver smirks at him. "Think Molly’ll think we’re dating?”
Percy shrugs, “Maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It’d get her off my back about who I’m dating, anyway.” He’s not really thinking about the conversation anymore, he’s drafting his letter home in his head.
Oliver puts a hand to his heart and smiles broadly. “Oh, he loves me! He can bear to spend time in the same room as me! I think we’ll have a spring wedding, what do you think, dear?”
“Shove off,” Percy says, “All I said is that of all the guys at Hogwarts you would not be my last choice.”
“Who would be your first choice?” Oliver asks, genuinely curious.
Percy pretends to think for a moment. He’s thought about this before. A little too much. Only late at night, when he can’t sleep, and he’s thinking about spending the rest of his life with Penelope, and he thinks he won’t be able to stand it. “Probably you, actually,” But now it’s the middle of the day, broad daylight outside, and he’s just admitted… something.
“Uh, what was that?” Oliver asks, cupping a hand to his ear, and leaning in. Percy’s about to repeat himself when he realises Oliver’s joking, “I am your favourite person at Hogwarts? And you’ve been attracted to me since the moment you saw me in first year? But waited until now to tell me?? Letting the passion build as the years passed, until finally, finally-” Percy throws a pillow at him, mostly to get him to shut up, but also in the vain hope that Oliver won’t see how true his words are.
“I didn’t say ‘person’,” Percy huffs, “I said ‘guy’. And don’t you have to get going, Mr Captain Of The Quidditch Team Forcing Everyone To Train Constantly?”
Oliver checks his watch. “Shit, you’re right. We’re not done with this conversation, Weasly.” he rushes out the door and down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Percy lies back in bed.
“Shit,” he breathes.
. . .
Three Weeks Later
Percy sleeps really poorly the night before the Quidditch match. He knows Oliver’s nervous, which shouldn’t make him nervous, but it does. Despite Oliver waking him up, it’s not until an hour or so after Oliver that he finally stumbles, yawning, out of bed. The rain is coming down hard outside. Any other sport would call off a game today, Percy thinks. Any sane game. Of course, Quidditch never has and never will be a “sane” game.
Percy gets dressed, quietly picking up after Oliver’s frantic exit from their dorm. He folds Oliver’s pyjamas and places them on his bed, and then goes down for breakfast. Most of the Gryffindor table is there already (excluding the Quidditch players), and Percy squeezes into a seat next to Penelope. When he sits down, Hermes flies in and drops a package in front of him. He feeds the grumpy old owl a bit of bacon and sets to the package. The handwriting on the front is Molly’s, and Percy carefully cuts the tape from the brown paper with a butter knife.
The package contains a maroon jumper, with a large yellow “O” in the centre. Percy smiles when he sees it, thinking about that day in the dorms with Oliver. On top of the jumper is a note. Percy breaks the seal and reads.
Dear Percy,
I think it’s so nice of you to think of your friends! Of course, I loved knitting Oliver a jumper, he seems like a very nice boy, from what Harry’s said.
Now, your father asked me not to pry, but I really would like to know. Are you and Oliver dating? Of course, you don’t need to reply right away, but do know your father and I love you, no matter who you love. You know Charlie’s doing that thing in Romania with the dragons - very dangerous, all of it, next time you talk you should remind him I said to be careful - but he says he’ll never get married. Honestly! To think, a Weasly, not having a family. I’m telling you, it’s those dragons. But I suppose that’s fine, I always figured you or Ron or Ginny would have kids. And you know how the twins are with their “pranks”. I wouldn’t be surprised if they sterilise themselves one of these days.
Anyway, I’m rambling, and you’ve asked me not to do that. Whether or not you’re dating, I hope Oliver likes the jumper. Please do write and let me know what he thinks. And your father and I would like to hear from you more as well.
Love you,
Mum
Percy carefully folds the letter and places it back in the envelope. He brings the jumper upstairs, putting it on his bed so he can remember to give it to Oliver later. He tucks the letter away in a desk drawer with his other letters from home, throws on his Weasly jumper and heads down to the common room, where Penelope is waiting for him. She’s wearing a Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirt, enchanted to flash each player’s name and number. Percy winces. It’s a little immoderate, he thinks.
Penelope smiles when she sees him and he back waves half-heartedly.
“Weather’s terrible,” he moans as they walk past a wall of windows on their way out of the castle.
“Makes it interesting, don’t you think?” Penelope asks excitedly. She’s practically skipping down the halls, and Percy breaks into a short jog every few steps to keep up.
“Slow down, Pen,” he grumbles, “The field will still be there.”
Penelope frowns, “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you hate Quidditch.”
It’s well known that Percy hates Quidditch. He feels his eyebrows knit as he squints at her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, frowning slightly.
Penelope gives a small shrug and a non-committal smile.
“C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”
She turns around and skips the rest of the way down the hall, Percy speed walking to keep up. When they get to the stands the field is still there, and the players are just taking their places.
“See, we were almost late!” Penelope says, whapping Percy on the arm.
“You’re missing the important fact here, Pen, which is that we were not late.” Percy takes out his book, whispers a quick water-repelling spell and begins to read.
“You’re really reading right now?” Penelope asks, her teeth chattering.
“Yes,” He says, not looking up from the book, “I just got to a fascinating chapter about reducing cauldron thickness.”
“Aren’t you interested in the game at all?” she asks, blowing into her hands.
“No,” Percy says, flipping the page, “I’m sure you’ll tell me if anything interesting happens.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Well, could I at least borrow your jumper? I’m freezing.”
“Can’t you just use a warming sp-”
“Percy!” she interrupts, frustrated. “We’re dating. People who are dating do cute things sometimes, like sharing jumpers.”
Percy flushes a little, thinking about the jumper sitting on his bed. He puts his book down and shrugs out of the jumper, handing it to Penelope.
“Thanks,” she gripes, pulling it on. He thinks she looks silly, the jumper is far too big on her. “Ohhh, they look like they’re really struggling…” she sounds worried. Percy looks up.
They do look like they’re struggling. Percy can’t imagine being on a broom in this. He thinks about the twins and tries to find them through the pouring rain, but he can only make out silhouettes that look vaguely like them. And Harry, flying far too high up. He spots Oliver and feels his breath catch in his throat.
He’s swaying, desperately trying to keep on his broom, watch the other players, and guard the hoops all at once. A passive observer might think he looks confident, his mouth set in a grim line and eyes sparkling, but Percy can tell by the set of his shoulders that he’s stressed. He finds himself leaning forward over his book in a desperate attempt to get closer to Oliver, wordlessly hoping that he’s safe and keeps the team safe. He knows Oliver’s probably not thinking about anything other than winning right now, but Percy could care less about that.
When Oliver calls for a time out, Percy releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Maybe they’ll finally call this stupid bloody game off, he thinks.
But no. Within a few minutes they’re back in the air. Bloody athletes, Percy thinks, never do anything that's in their own best interests. Oliver turns and looks directly at Percy, and he quickly ducks his head down and pretends to be reading. He thinks about what he said back in their dorm- “of all the guys at Hogwarts you would not be my last choice.” - Fuck.
Percy has never been very good at The Flirting Thing. Never very good at the Having Crushes Thing either. When people ask, he usually just picks the nearest girl. Or whoever he knows is interested in him. That just made sense, right? Crushes could be the same as everything else. You do research, decide on the optimal choice, and execute. You hope your “crush” decides you’re the optimal choice as well, and if they did, you got married, had a few kids, the normal stuff. But then… Oliver. That did not make sense.
First of all, an extremely sub-optimal crush. Falling for a roommate seemed to be messy, from what Percy had seen and heard. Not to mention the whole “Oliver’s a Guy” thing. Which, maybe wasn’t so much A Thing. Molly, in her misguided attempts to connect to Percy, had seemed supportive. But you couldn’t have kids with a guy. Well, someone could, but not Percy. This messed up his entire plan. He was going to graduate Hogwarts, get a job at the Ministry, get married, buy a house, have kids. It was what you were supposed to do, right?
And besides, there was also the whole mess of Feelings now. Having feelings in the middle of the night was one thing. Percy could pretend it was a mistake, a fluke manufactured by his sleep-deprived mind. Or otherwise, he could write it off the next morning. He could just go find Penelope and they’d have a snog, or she’d plan a date. But Percy never really felt anything. It was nice, but... If anything was sub-optimal, it was Feelings.
Penelope screams beside him and grabs Percy’s arm. He’s jolted back to the game, and a figure falling through the sky. He takes a sharp breath. Not- it can’t be- he scans the pitch, but no, there’s Oliver, swooping down from the hoops.
“Harry!” someone yells behind him, and Percy lets out the breath he was holding. Not Oliver, not the twins. Suddenly there’s a wave of commotion around him, but he just sits still. He somehow can’t force his legs to move. A second later, the stands are empty around him. Penelope is still beside him, her shoulders quietly shaking.
A moment later, Percy realises she’s crying.
He puts his arm around her, pulling her close, a gesture he learned after awkwardly watching her cry a few times. “Aw, Pen-” He starts, but Penelope shrugs him off.
“We need to break up,” she sniffs. She looks up at him and her eyes are red-rimmed. She swipes at her nose with her sleeve, looks at it for a second, and then takes off Percy’s jumper.
“Look, Perce, I love you-”
“I love you too, Pen, why-”
“Just let me finish?” she interrupts. She takes a shaky breath and looks down at her hands, “I love you, and I know you love me, but I don’t- I don’t think- I mean… God, Perce! You’re clearly in love with Wood.”
Percy blinks rapidly a few times. A million excuses run through his head in an instant. I’m not gay, I love you, I don’t- I can’t- He’s not- But he can’t make his mouth say anything.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she continues, distantly, “But I mean, I see the way you look at him, the way he looks at you, God, Perce, it’s so obvious. But, I dunno, I love you, I want to see you happy. And you’re clearly not happy with me. So go get him. Or don’t,” she chuckles, “Keep pining, whatever. But don’t make me be in the middle.” She gets up and walks away, and Percy’s still sitting there, dumbstruck.
As he walks back to the castle, he thinks he should be sad. Or angry. Isn’t that how people usually feel after a break-up? But he feels nothing. In a few words, Penelope shattered his plans. It seems unlikely, now, that they’ll get married and live together and have kids together. But, for the first time since people started asking him who he was interested in, Percy realises he doesn’t care. She’s right about Oliver, he thinks, and the firm reality of it hits him like a truck. As he walks past the infirmary, he hears Fred and George’s voice carrying out into the hall.
“--they won fair and square… even Wood admits it.”
“Where is Wood?” He hears Harry’s voice ask.
“Still in the showers,” the other twin says. “We think he’s trying to drown himself.”
Percy continues walking to the common room, but halfway there he changes his mind. He turns on his heel and starts half-walking, half-running back to the Quidditch pitch. He points his wand behind him, not stopping.
“Accio jumper,” he whispers.
. . .
“I think the team will get much worse if you drown yourself,” Percy says, leaning in the doorway to the team showers. He hears the water turn off a second later and Oliver sticks his head out of the stall.
“What?” Oliver asks, hair dripping on the concrete floor.
“Fred and George aren’t responsible enough to follow in your footsteps, even if you got both of them to be captain.” he holds up the jumper, still wrapped in brown paper, “I brought a present, if that’s enough to convince you to stay?”
“I’d make Alicia capitan,” Oliver says. He squints at the package, “What’ve you got?”
Percy shrugs, “Come and find out?”
“Let me grab a towel,” Oliver says. Percy sits down on one of the benches in the main room. He hasn’t been in the locker rooms since required Quidditch practice first year. He doesn’t much want to come back.
“Ok, hand it over,” Oliver says. His hair’s still dripping, but he’s dried off his chest and arms and wrapped a towel around his waist. He sits down on the bench next to Percy and takes the package from him. Oliver starts to open it, and Percy feels like he has to say something.
“It’s not much, so don’t, like, get your hopes up or anything, I just thought that it was cute- or I mean, not cute, but, like, we had sort of talked about- not talked about, but that day when you didn’t have a jumper, and you borrowed mine, you looked good in- not good, but handsome- no, that’s worse, er-”
“Percy-” Oliver cuts him off. “I love it.” He smiles softly at Percy and Percy smiles back.
“I, erm, I’m glad. Mum knitted it, I sent her a letter, so I’m sure she’ll love to hear you-” Oliver leans closer. Percy leans away.
No, wait, that’s not right. He leans back in.
“Is this ok?” Oliver whispers. And he’s looking at Percy’s lips and Percy’s watching his eyelashes fan out over his cheeks.
“Percy?” Oliver looks up at him, concerned. “Did I misinterpret- I’m sorry if I- I just-”
“No!” Percy says, a bit too loudly. Oliver startles. “No, sorry,” he continues, softer, “yes, yes, that’s ok.” He leans in towards Oliver, and Oliver leans in towards him, and this time Percy is looking at Oliver’s lips.
Kissing Oliver is nothing like kissing Penelope. He’s a lot firmer, more sure than Penelope. He feels Oliver brush a hand through his hair and he grips onto Oliver’s other arm.
“Percy-” Oliver chuckles against his lips, “Percy, you’re gonna leave bruises.”
“Sorry,” Percy breathes, letting go of Oliver’s arm. “So- uh,” he feels himself blush, “Do you want to go back to our room?”
Oliver’s eyes light up. “Yes! Let me- let me get changed.”
A record-breaking time later, they’re on their way back to the castle. It takes them forever to get back to their dorm, however, as Oliver keeps pulling Percy aside to snog in empty classes and little alcoves covered by tapestries.
When they get to the common room, Oliver feigns demonstrable sadness about losing the match, and after a round of back-pats and “get ‘em next time”s, he finally manages to escape upstairs.
“So,” Oliver says, pulling Percy onto his bed and flicking the curtains closed around them, “Where were we?”